Letters from War
by CyborgWithGreatHair
Summary: Eighteen year old Elias Manoso is making plans for life after high school. Find out what happens when he tells his parents that he thinks he wants to join the military and follow the family as they navigate the consequences of his decisions. Song fic based on Letters from War by Mark Shultz.
1. Chapter 1

_During rehearsals for my annual Theatre Restaurant on Sunday, this story came to me. It's based on the song "Letters from War" by Mark Schultz. And an interesting fact about this story is that I wrote it out completely by hand before I started typing any of it up. I've dedicated a lot of hours to it, including some during which I should have been sleeping, so I hope you all like it._

 **Letters From War**

Chapter 1

Eighteen years ago, I gave birth to a gorgeous little boy with brown eyes, tan skin and the most angelic head of brown curls anyone had ever seen. His smiles were like the sun shining straight from his face, and when he cried it was like being stabbed in the heart. I never would have thought that having children would affect me the way it did, but there I as, proud as a mother could be.

For six years, Elias was the light of my life. The planet around which I orbited. Then along came Chelsea. Right from the get go I could tell she took after her father. Serous and thoughtful, she'd inherited the Manoso gift of conveying all she needed to say in a limited number of syllables. Where her brother could talk under water, Chelsea was more likely to watch, contemplate, and only speak once she'd formulated an opinion. It kept her out of trouble for the most part, but every now and then, my side of her genes would shine and she'd snap out something at the wrong time. Poor child.

Not long after Chelsea came Sophie, our own little clown. Somehow she appears to have inherited something from the Santos branch of the family tree, or perhaps something straight from Grandma Mazur. There wasn't a topic known to man that she couldn't make funny. A stark contrast to her sister, she often attempted to draw Chelsea into her make believe games. With little success.

With three kids running about the place, Carlos and I had decided we were done with the procreation stuff. I mean, really, we'd intended to stop at one. So I got my tubes tied. It's the most effective form of female sterilisation. End of problem, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, there is still a very small – we're talking miniscule – chance that after having one's tubes tied they are able to conceive. Which is how I found myself pregnant six years after I quit the pregnancy game. It hit me like a semi-trailer on black ice. I was, quite literally, too old for this shit and my body was letting me know. The morning sickness, which had been blissfully absent with all the others, was debilitating and grossly miss-named. It wasn't morning sickness. It was all day sickness. For three months I lived on nothing but Ella's special apple sauce, protein bars, and ginger ale. Meat was the devil. I couldn't stand being in the house while it was cooking and I could barely tolerate being in the same room while the others were. To cut a long story short: I looked like hell. I felt like hell. And the day I could stomach a cinnamon donut again, I just about cried the rest of the day.

Carlos got a vasectomy then, just to be sure it wouldn't happen again. Four children was more than enough. But we loved them all: Elias, Chelsea, Sophie, and little Frankie.

They grew. Quickly. Too quickly at times, and before I knew it – before I was remotely ready – Elias was talking college. He brought it up at dinner one night out of the blue.

"So I've been thinking about college," he announced without so much as a breath following his tale about how he'd tricked his English teacher into agreeing to let the class out fifteen minutes early.

"Oh," I uttered, trying to mask my surprise. "Is that- it's a bit early for that, isn't it?" _Calm down, Steph. He's not leaving tomorrow. He's just weighing his options._

Elias scoffed at my ignorance. "Now is the exact time to think about college," he assured me.

"Applications are due at the end of next month," Carlos chipped in, simultaneously attempting to get Frankie to eat his beans and stop the girls from hitting each other with their napkins.

"Oh," I repeated. Were they keeping secrets from me again?

"Uncle Tank's been nagging me about college since late last year." Elias pointed out, "He thinks I'm gonna leave it too late and then make some stupid decision that I'll regret the rest of my life." That did seem like something someone with my genes would do.

"It's still quite late," Carlos pointed out. "Are you just starting now?"

Elias shook his head and forked a brussel sprout into his mouth, like this conversation wasn't tearing out my heart. I wasn't ready for him to leave yet. He still forgot to brush his teeth at least once a fortnight. "I'm not _starting_ , Dad," he sighed. "I'm pretty sure I've made my decision."

At this, Carlos's head snapped up. His eldest son now had his full and undivided attention. "Really?" It was unlike him to sound this surprised, perhaps it wasn't just me who had been knocked for six by this topic. I just kept picturing the first time I held Elias, he couldn't even support his own head. Surely he wasn't ready to make such big decisions on his own yet.

"I've been talking it over with Uncle Tank for weeks," Elias assured us. "Weighing up my options, analysing courses and all that shit."

"Language," Chelsea quipped around a mouthful of potatoes.

"Shut it, Pipsqueak," he retorted, flicking her hair – a surefire way to piss her off.

"Mom!" Chelsea whined. "El-"

"I know what he did," I cut her off. "Elias, leave your sister alone and get back to these secret meetings you've been having with Tank."

He rolled his eyes so hard I was almost proud of the action. "They're not secret meetings," he said.

"Then how come I'm only just hearing about them now?" I shot back, perhaps getting a little hotter under the collar than was necessary. Making a concentrated effort to calm down, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and found Carlos's gaze across the table. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. Elias had been stressing me out more and more in recent years, and I needed to not let every little thing get to me. "Sorry," I murmured. "So Tank's been helping with your decisions?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "He did up a spreadsheet to compare them all and whatever, we picked out a few really good ones and I've sent in some applications, but none of them are exactly what I'm looking for in a future."

"What is it you're looking for?" Carlos asked, effectively intercepting a flying pea before it could make contact with Sophie. "Eat it, don't play with it," he admonished Frankie, popping the projectile in his own mouth.

"I think I wanna join the army," Elias announced while we were slightly distracted.

"What!?" I exclaimed, turning my entire body to face my eldest son. He was only eighteen. He couldn't be making these decisions! I was going to kill Tank next time I saw him. In fact, maybe I should get that sorted right now.

I pushed back from the table and was rising to my feet when Carlos uttered a gently questioning, "Babe?"

Elias seemed confused. "Mom, where are you going?"

"To kill Tank," I said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" both men enquired in unison, identical expressions of concern crossing their faces.

"For putting these ridiculous notions in my baby's head," I raged. "For not warning me that this was coming. For having secret meetings with my son to convince him to join the army and go off to war to get killed and never come home to me again!" I was crying, I realised when Chelsea handed me a napkin. Tears were streaming down my face unchecked. I was a mess.

"Mom," Elias uttered quietly.

I fell back into my chair heavily, pushing my plate aside. My appetite was gone. All I could do was stare tearfully at my son.

"Girls, Frankie, go do your homework," Carlos instructed the younger three, shooing them out of the dining room and upstairs to their bedrooms. The likelihood of them actually doing homework was slim to none, but we didn't need them interrupting this very important conversation.

"How _could_ he," I muttered under my breath, blowing my noise as I stared at Elias. He was all grown up now. I was painfully aware of that every time he stood next to his father. They were nearly the same height, and the hard planes of his face were chipping away any remaining baby fat.

"Mom," he said again, sounding exasperated this time. "Uncle Tank didn't encourage me to join the army. The whole concept was only mentioned once really early on as a side option that we didn't even bother considering."

"Why not?" Carlos questioned, moving around the table to sit closer to me now that his peace keeping duties were no longer needed.

"Tank said you'd both want me to do the college thing," El shrugged. "So that's what we focussed on."

Carlso shook his head. "We want you to do what makes you happy," he reminded him. "Follow your dreams."

"I know," Elias agreed. "But Uncle Tank wanted me to get my college applications in and the counsellor at school kept nagging us to do it, so I let him help me. But I've been thinking."

"Thinking about getting yourself killed," I interrupted.

"Babe," Carlos said, covering my hand where it rested on the table.

"Could you please let me finish, Mom?"

"Well, what do you _think_ is going to happen when they ship you off to parts unknown with nothing but a gun?" I spat, my previous resolve for calm having vanished into thin air. "You'll be killed. Did you even stop to think how that would make us feel? You're my baby!"

"Mom!" Elias shouted, his temper rising. "You don't understa-"

"I UNDERSTAND JUST FINE!" I shouted back.

"Babe," Carlos said, yet again. "Maybe you should let me talk to Elias alone for a moment."

I shot my husband a glare that would have melted the skin of the faces of lesser men. "You'll only endorse his plans," I accused. "You'd just love for him to follow in your footsteps."

"You're being impossible!" Elias groused at the same moment that Carlos calmly explained, "If his reasoning is sound then of course I'll support his decisions."

"I knew it!" I stated.

"Mom, please. Just stop," Elias pleaded, his expression pained as he looked from me to his father. "I hate it when you fight. None of this is anyone's fault but my own, and if you'd let me explain, maybe we could discuss this like adults and come to a decision collectively and maturely. I'd really like your opinions on it, but not if you're going to toss everything aside, convinced I'll die." There was a beat of silence while he let that request sink in before adding under his breath, "And preferably without more tears."

"Babe?" Carlos prompted when I stayed quiet.

"Okay," I agreed. "Explain away."

Rather than start talking straight away, Elias busied himself with stacking and scraping the plates, gathering cutlery and generally tidying the table. As he started folding napkins, I gripped Carlos's hand tighter than was strictly necessary, digging my nails into his flesh as the tension in my body wound tighter and tighter.

"Son," Carlos said after a moment more. "Your mother's about to draw blood with her nails, could you put us out of our misery?"

His eyes widened, then darted down to our hands on the table, giving a short nod. "Right," he said, swallowing hard. "Sorry." He took another second to organise his thoughts before words began tumbling from his lis, all of them directed to the dining room table.

"I've been thinking lately about the future," he started, stating the obvious. "About my future. And your future. And, well, everything." Still, he stared down at the dark woodgrain. "I know that Dad is't getting any younger, and while his age really has nothing to do with his ability to run Rangeman, and it hasn't even really affect his fitness level or whatever else goes into his captures. But I know you guys aren't gonna be around forever." He did look up then. Just for a to guage our reactions.

I was still confused.

Carlos had his blank mask in place.

"We do a lot of good work at Rangeman," he went on, once more making eye contact with the table. "I'd hat for that to stop one day if you – I don't know – died, or passed the company to some asshole. I know none of the men would want that either."

"Ellie," I interrupted softly, using the pet name I hadn't called him since he was four years old. "What does this have to do with joining the military?"

He raised his head to meet my eyes, and spoke to me as if his father weren't there at all. "I want to be able to help Rangeman keep up it's legacy," he informed me solemnly. "Dad's made off hand comments about 'one day when you run the company' a few times, and it got me thinking. I know I can run the company without ever serving, but I think what makes Dad such an effective leader is that confidence and practical know how he learned in the army. It's not just shooting and fighting and dying, Mom. It's more than that."

"You want to take over the company one day?" Carlos asked, sounding stunned. I knew the feeling. For the past eighteen years we'd been careful not to enforce our viewpoint and desires on our kids as my mother had done with me. We encouraged them to be individuals, to follow their own interests whether it was painting, or bike riding, or robotics, or wrestling, or reading or whatever else they could think of. Yet here was Elias laying out a plan to follow in his father's footsteps.

The hard way.

"You're sure the armed forces is the way you want to go?" I asked.

Elias shrugged and leaned his elbows on the table. "I thought I was sure, but now that I've seen how much it upsets you, I don't know anymore."

I wanted to kick myself. He just wanted to be happy. "Follow your heart," I reminded him.

He laughed at that. "My heart says chocolate ice-cream, right now," he said, grinning slightly.

"Excellent instincts," I praised, rising from the table and making my way to the freezer in the kitchen. "Always follow THAT part of your heart."

Our conversation was put on hold while I retrieved two bowls of ice cream and the men – my men – cleared the table, setting the dishwasher going. I think we all needed a little time to think and process and what better way to do that than with chocolate ice cream? While we were all up, we relocated to the living room, Carlos sinking into the recliner and Elias and I sitting side by side on the sofa.

There was silence as El and I devoured our dessert. Then Carlos spoke. "I understand your thinking," he started, holding his son's gaze. "And I'm proud of your for wanting to keep the company going when I no longer can, but joining the military is not a decision you should make lightly. You need to be sure. You need to be ready."

Elias nodded understanding while I tried to stifle a relieved sigh that Carlos was reasoning for more consideration on the matter. "What do you suggest?" Elias asked.

"You've applied to some colleges, yes?" Carlos questioned.

Another nod from Elias.

"Study for a year. Train with the guys here. Then we'll all sit down and re-evaluate. If you still want to join the army, we'll support your decision."

"Okay," he agreed.

"You're a smart kid," Carlos went on. "I don't want you to jump into the military feet first when you'd be better suited somewhere else." He must have read something in his son's expression, because he added, "I'm not saying you're not cut out for it. I'm saying you should experience the world without the weight of war and death on your shoulders first."

"Okay," Elias repeated, apparently placated by his father's explanation. "Thank you."

Carlos smiled a rare smile. "Whether you like it or not, it will always be my job to look out four your best interests."

"I know," he said. "I just – I don't want to disappoint you. I don't want the Merry Men to think I'm weak. I don't want you both to worry what's going to happen to the company when you… ya-know."

"Nonsense," I told him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him in to my side. "Utter nonsense. All anyone in this family wants for you is for you to be who you were meant to be. If that means you invent self-toasting bread, or find the cure for menstrual cramps, brilliant! No one is going to think any less f you for not rushing head first into the army."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I'm still going to kill Tank, though," I assured them both, idly twining one of Elias's curls around my fingers. "He should have warned me the college conversation was coming up. I needed time to prepare. I'm not ready for my baby bird to leave the nest." I pressed a series of kisses to his head, ignoring the groans of protest and his swatting hands. In a few months' time he may well be off to college, but for now, he was my little boy and I was going to treasure him.

 ** _I'm hoping to get the subsequent chapters (of which there are three) out fairly quickly. It's just a matter of finding the time between rehearsals and work to type them up and post them._**


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. My hope is to get this story up and posted and completed by Saturday._

 **Chapter 2**

By the end of the agreed upon year, his mind was made up and there was no changing it. He was joining the army. He'd spent all year training with his father and uncles and studying. I thought perhaps that he'd give up on it once he saw how enjoyable college life could be, but he had very little interest in partying, even when he father and I gave our blessing for him to drink despite not being of age.

Instead, Elias grew obsessed with the news. Every time we turned on the TV or opened the paper there was a new disaster happening somewhere in the world. He wanted to help. He'd convinced Carlos to assign him to active duty to satisfy his urges for action. He'd been present on jobs prior to this, of course, but now he was tracking down criminals on his own (if you don't count his partner). I was pleased to see, though, that he erred more on my side than Carlos's when it came to skip tracing, striving to prove people's innocence where possible and using force only when necessary.

But my year's grace was up and he'd gone off and joined the army. No amount of reassurances from Carlos or any of the men – nor even Chelsea's calculated words of confidence in her older brother – could have prepped me enough for the moment he walked out that door for basic training.

"He'll be fine," Carlos told me firmly, one arm wrapped around my waist as we watched the space where his car had disappeared out of the neighbourhood.

"He's doing what's best for him," Chelsea confirmed with a nod rom beside me.

I glanced down at her. Despite their bickering, Chelsea and Elias had always been quite close, sharing secrets and discussing, earnestly, things they wouldn't bring up with me or their father, or anyone else. It seemed off to me, given their age difference. Especially given the fact that Val and I, who were relatively close in age, had never been anywhere near that close. Far be it from me to break the bond that they had made.

"You really think so?" I asked her.

She nodded. "He needs to help people."

"He can help people right here at home," I reminded her.

My eldest daughter, wise beyond her thirteen years, looked me dead in the eye and said the one thing that could have convinced me to let my baby boy go. "Do you really wanna be just like Grandma and cut his wings?"

She was absolutely right. I'd resented my mother for imposing her views on my life and squashing my dreams. I didn't want to cause that kind of relationship strain with my own kids. I wanted them to enjoy coming to visit once they eventually moved out. I wanted them to _want_ to come back. My worst nightmare was that I would turn into my own mother, and apparently at some point Chelsea must have overheard one of my many conversations with Carlos on the topic.

A high pitched squeal emitted from somewhere inside the house, followed immediately by the kind of laughter that always put me on edge. Whatever Sophie and Frankie were up to was not something I was rushing to get in the middle of.

"Time to go back in," Carlos sighed, turning to do just that.

"I'll be in in a minute," I replied, gazing down the streed once more.

"He'll be fine, Mom," Chelsea assured me, but she didn't leave my side. It was peaceful there, on the porch in the morning sun. With each moment that passed my anxiety at Elias's leaving shrunk, until it was almost small enough for my to swallow without gagging.

And then the peace was shattered.

Sophie burst out of the screen door, Nerf gun in hand, firing back into the house at her brother. "You're gonna die you little turd!" she cried, firing a volley of foam darts through the front hall. "Mom, can I have El's room now that he doesn't need it anymore?"

"What?!" I exclaimed, taken completely off guard. "No! He still needs it!"

"But he's staying at the barracks," she argued, slamming the screen door shut in Frankie's face.

"How would you feel if you went on school camp and while you were gone Frankie took your room?" I countered.

I had her attention now. Well, almost. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at me like I'd just told her chocolate was made from spinach. But she was also leaning her full weight against the dor to prevent Frankie getting out. "But camp is, like, a week. Elias might _never_ come back!"

"Sophie Abigail Manoso, can't you see your mother is already struggling with Elias leaving? Have some compassion!" Chelsea raged at her sister. "Just go inside and let Frankie shoot you!"

Sophie stomped her foot. "You're not my mother!" she retorted. "You're not the boss of me! You can't make me do anything!"

Carlos's voice came from just behind her before anyone could say another word, quiet and commanding. She jumped a foot in the air. "In," he ordered. And just in case she didn't understand the time frame he expected, added, "Now."

*o*

Predictably, Elias made it through basic training and his first years of full service with hardly a problem at all. In fact, he was first in his class. All that training with his uncles had clearly paid off. He was sent on short tours here and there, mostly just aid assignments. Nothing was ever as major as the secret government missions Carlos used to do. I could handle all of this, especially since he was in touch at least once a month to let me know that he was still alive and well.

Everything was running smoothly, despite my initial reservations. He seemed genuinely happy to be serving his country and following in his father's and uncle's footsteps.

Then came the phone call I'd been dreading since the moment he got in his car and drove off two years ago.

"Hey Mom," he greeted. It was the same way he started every conversation, but there was something n his tone that had my spidey senses tingling. Something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, standing from my desk and hurrying down the hall to Carlos's office. "What's happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mom," he assured me was I reached my husband's closed door and barged straight in regardless of what kind of business he was currently conducting within. "Are you with Dad right now?"

Carlos's eyes snapped to mine the second I stepped inside, ignoring the offended looks on the clients faces. "Babe?"

"Elias," I said by way of explanation. And in the next moment, the clients were being ushered out with profuse apologies, vague mentions of a son and a forceful knock on Tank's office door.

"Did Dad just blow off clients because you barged in and said my name?" Eliad asked, sounding amused.

"Of course he did," I snapped. "You're important."

"I've got the power!" he sang.

Rather than respond to that, I hit speaker and set the phone down on the desk. I might have sat down at that point, if I weren't so on edge. As it was, the only thing that kept me from pacing back and forth in the space between the freshly vacated visitor's chairs and the desk was Carlos's arms wrapping around me from behind, holding me in place.

"What's going on?" Carlos asked as I gripped his hand tightly.

"You don't need to clear your schedule just for my phone call, Dad," Elias's voice emitted from the phone.

"The look on your mother's face says otherwise," he replied efficiently. "Now tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing to worry about," Elias assured us. Which, of course, made me start worrying harder.

"Whatever it is, just say it before your mother breaks my hand," Carlos instructed. I attempted to loosen my grip, but I couldn't seem to get my fingers to work. Carlos used his thumbs to gently stroke my knuckles reassuringly.

"Mom's not strong enough to break your hand," Elias laughed, "She struggles to open pickle jars."

"You wanna stake your life on that statement?" Carlos responded.

"Just tell me what's wrong!" I burst out. I couldn't believe Carlos was joking around when I was ready to jump clear out of my skin. There was a time when I would have dropped into a dead faint at the mere thought of Carlos trading humorous comments or delaying the delivery of important facts. He'd mellowed in the last twenty years. Raising children was a learning curve for both of us, but over the years he'd learned that the voice and mannerisms he used at work and in his previous life generally didn't work on the kids. Then again, it helped that he got to practice on them while they were still babies.

"Okay," Elias sighed. "But promise you won't freak out."

"It's a little late for that, son," Carlos pointed out.

"Right," he agreed. "Well here goes, then. Mom, Dad, I've received orders for a – um – Christ, how do I phrase this?"

I could hardly breathe. My mind was awash with all the possible ending to that sentence. "I swear to God," I managed to gasp out. "If the next words out of your mouth are secret, government or mission, I will kill you before anyone else ever has a chance."

"Uhhh…."

"Babe, if he was being sent on a secret government mission I would have been notified."

"Well," Elias hedged.

The next moment was a blur. I spun around to face Carlos, eyes wide as I contemplated what my son could have been ordered to do, what his muttered 'well' could mean. _Had_ he been ordered on a secret government mission? If so, why hadn't Carlos been informed? Was it something worse? My head spun, a wave of dizziness washing over me. Before I could lose my balance and fall, though, Carlos had snatched up both me and the phone and carted us over to the leather couch on the other side of the room.

"Tell me exactly what your orders are," he commanded in the tone he reserves for his men, not his children.

I waited for a reply, but none came. Glancing up at Carlos, I saw that he had taken the phone off speaker and was now talking to our son semi-privately. "Your mother's not going to be happy," he said after a moment. "We both promised that this wouldn't happen." He paused while Elias said something. "Yes. We were both fools to thing that we had the power to prevent it."

"Let me speak to him," I requested.

Wordlessly, Carlos handed over the pone, aware of the consequences I would deliver if he didn't.

"Elias James Manoso," I stated as calmly as I could manage with my heart breaking. "If you're being shipped off to some third world country to fight someone else's war, you need to make me a new promise."

"Anything," he confirmed. His father had taught him well.

"Every opportunity you get to make contact, you take it," I instructed. "For me and my peace of mind, but also for your siblings. We all worry about you."

"I know, Mom," he sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my first promise, but I'll make sure to keep this one."

"The first one was out of any of our control," I assured him. "I never thought that even your father could do anything to stop it if that what the government wanted. I'd hoped, but these things are out of our control. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

"Take care of yourself and your team," I told him, trying to sound strong despite the fact that I was on the verge of tears. "I don't want any other mother's to have their sons come home in body bags either."

"I'll do my best," he promised. A voice in the background stole his attention for a moment and then he was rushing off. "I've gotta go, Mom. Tell everyone I love them."

I want to say that when he hung up I took a deep, cleansing breath and got on with my day like a normal person, that I didn't break down and blubber into Carlos's chest, but it would be a lie if I did. We sat there on the sofa, me crying like I'd already been told Elias was dead, and Carlos murmuring comforting, but incomprehensible, words in Spanish. Eventually, my tears dried up, but neither of us moved for the longest time.

Until there was a light tap on the door.

"Enter," Carlos called, his voice rumbling through his chest and vibrating against my cheek.

Lester stepped inside, followed by Bobby and Tank, identical concerned expressions rumpling their features.

Tank was the first to speak. "We sent Hal and Ca to pick up the kids," he announced.

Lester was far less patient. He needed answers as much as I had. "What's Elias up to?"

"Tell me it's not a mission," Bobby added.

And that was all it took for me to dissolve once more, leaving Carlos to explain. The guys weren't at all happy – _"He's too young!" "Brandon gave us his word!" "That asshat!" –_ but were quick to assure me that he could take care of himself and that there was no way he wouldn't make it back in one piece.

Then Chelsea, Sophie and Frankie were there and we had to tell them. I handled that a little better probably because Frankie and Sophie didn't really understand the significance of the events, and I could tell how worried Chelsea was at the mere mention of the mission. She'd heard enough stories to know how dire the situation was. Sophie never really shut up long enough to listen to those stories. And Frankie, well, he was still just a baby. Not even eight yet. No one wanted to corrupt his beautiful little mind.

*o*

Three weeks later I received an email from an unknown address, but I knew the second I saw it who it was from. I opened it immediately, my eyes skipping across the words before finally starting at the top and savouring every letter like it was the last morsel of food I would ever consume.

 _Mom,_

 _Everything's fine. Moving along right on track. Don't worry._

 _I've had a lot of time to think lately, about my life, your life, Dad's life, I'm pretty sure if Dad hadn't done the whole risking his life thing, he never would have met you, and ten I would have been born to some asshole and a drug addict. I'm so grateful to have you both as my parents. You're what I'm fighting for._

 _Love,_

 _Ellie_

 _P.S. Don't let Dad read the mushy crap I wrote._

It was the first of many emails that wold come over the following months, each one from a new email address and assuring me that he was fine and was looking after the rest of his team. There were never any details about what was going on, which was to be expected. After all these years I still knew the drill. I just never thought I'd be put through it all over again once Carlos finally retired. I doubted he would check back to the previous email address for a reply, but I wrote back every single time, none the less.

 _Ellie,_

 _I know I've told you this more times than either of us could possibly count, but you are turning into such a great man. You're brave, just like your father. I'm so lucking to call your my son. We're all eagerly awaiting the day you return home to us._

 _Love,_

 _Mom._

 **Two more chapters to go.**


	3. Chapter 3

_I'd just like to remind everyone that everything I know about the military I either learned from TV or I made up on the spot, so if there are inaccuracies in my story, please just pretend along with me or correct them in your head._

 **Chapter 3**

Late in December, just a week before Christmas, I awoke in the dark with a start. My breathing was heavy, hands trembling and there was a weight in the pit of my stomach the likes of which I'd never known. To quote Miss Clavel from the cartoon Madeline, something was not right.

Carlos's warm hand touched my arm. "Babe?" he questioned, obvious concern in his voice.

"Elias," I whispered in reply. It was the only concrete thought in my mind. I reached blindly for my phone on the night stand and opened my email inbox. There were twenty seven unread emails, but only one from an unknown address as was Elias's custom. It brought no relief though. In fact, if anything, it only caused the tension gripping my entire body to wind tighter still.

That's when Carlos's phone rang.

In the dim light of both our phone screens, I watched as he checked the read out, his blank face slamming down just before he hit the button to receive the call.

My stomach dropped into my feet. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst through my chest at any given moment. Nausea roiled through my guts.

I clicked on the email and started reading.

 _Dear Mrs. Manoso,_

I wanted to stop right there, to deny whatever the rest of the email would say, but I couldn't. I had to keep going. Sucking in a deep breath, I glanced briefly at my husband who appeared to be in a serious conversation, but facing away from me and talking so softly that I couldn't hear a word he was saying, nor could I read his expression. Slowly, I exhaled and returned my attention to the words dancing across the small screen in my shaking hands. I had to focus hard to make them out through the tears starting to gather in my eyes.

 _Dear Mrs. Manoso,_

 _I don't know how to say this other than to explain exactly the way things are._

 _My name is Phineas Elridge and I was assigned to your son Elias's team for the mission we were both deployed on. Over the past dew months we have come to rely on each other and the others in our group, sharing the hardships and successes that come our way. We've turned into something of a family over here, Mrs. Manoso, and it's all thanks to your son._

 _Elias insisted from the get go that if we all wanted to make it out of this hell hole alive that we had to stick together and support one another, because God knows there's nobody else in this God forsaken land we can trust. Because of him we've overcome differences that would have been the death of us if it had happened in any other squad._

 _I ow Elias my life."_

I had to pause there as the tears blocked out my vision, and when I'd wiped my eyes and glanced over to where Carlos had been he wasn't there. I needed to be more aware of my surroundings, but right at that moment what I needed most was for this email to not have the ending I thought it was going to have.

Deciding that delaying it would only make it worse, I forged ahead.

 _I owe Elias my life._

 _I was on a hill (which, in hind sight, was probably my first mistake), alone (mistake number two), when shots rang out and bombs started going off all around me. In the next moment I found myself surrounded on all sides by the enemy. The rest of the team was a hundred yards away, and the likelihood that they would be able to hear me over the din of the gunfire was sub-zero, but I called for them to disappear anyway. My fate was pretty much sealed. There was no point in us all getting ourselves killed. Or worse._

 _But your Elias wouldn't have it. He's been hell bend on keeping us all alive since the moment we all stepped into the briefing room and this was no exception._

 _He came back for me._

 _He fought valiantly, fearlessly, and with more determination than I thought possible for one person to contain. He got me free of my bonds and ordered me to run._

 _I ran. Fast as my legs would take me, but when I glanced over my shoulder to be sure he was following, he wasn't._

 _A second after he'd released me, he'd gotten himself captured._

 _I'm so sorry, Mrs. Manoso. I did everything within my power to retrieve him just as he had me, but my efforts were futile. I am, regrettably, unable to get him back as of yet. The team and I are putting every bit of strategy, know-how and ingenuity into planning subsequent attempts, but I felt the need to make good on the pact we made our first night out here._

 _With the threat of the unknown hanging over our heads, and the new agreement that we_ had to _watch each other's backs, Elias made each of us promise that if anything were to happen to him one of us would write to you to let you knew. It's my understanding that the moment we notify our contact of these events Elias's father will receive a phone call passing the message along as per some mystical agreement, but Elias wanted to make sure that one of us let you know. He said that you'd want to know the he was keeping his promises to you._

 _Rest assured, Mrs. Manoso, that we_ will _be bringing your son home with us. Alive. Even if it is the last thing I do._

 _Regretfully yours,_

 _Phineas Elridge._

Gripping the phone tightly, I threw back the covers – how was it that I was still sitting in bed like everything was fine? Like my son wasn't missing in action and my whole world wasn't falling apart? – and staggered to my feet, feeling my way to the ensuit bathroom. Once there, I knelt in front of the toilet and dry heaved for a good half hour before finding the strength to pull myself to my feet once more and splash cold water on my face.

That's how Carlos found me, my head thrust under the stream of water, ignoring the better, icy cold in the hopes that it would freeze my heart and stop my chest from aching even if it was doing nothing to halt my tears.

"Babe," Carlos murmured, pulling me gently from the sink and drying my face and hair with a towel as he guided me to sit on the lid of the toilet.

He's gone," I croaked, blinking up at him. There was a soft halo of light surrounding him. He must have turned the light on in the bedroom.

"He's not gone," Carlos responded, squatting down in front of me so that we were eye to eye. He's just missing right now. His team is working on recovering him as we speak. I doubt that boy Phineas is going to rest until they find him."

"What if they don't?" I questioned, unable to find a bright side to look on. My baby had been taken prisoner in a foreign land by foreign men. There was no telling what kind of torture he was being subjected to.

"I've got Tank putting together a team of our own to send in as back up," Carlos soothed, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "We'll find him or die trying."

A horrible thought occurred to me then and my eyes shot up to latch on his in the low lighting. "You can't leave me," I informed him. "I just lost my son, you are not leaving me too. I don't care how much of a control freak you are. I don't care if, even at fifty-three years of age, you're still the best in the business. You. Are. Not. Leaving. My. Side."

"I wouldn't dare put you and the kids through that," Carlos said earnestly. "I'll be running this operation from state side."

"Good," I sighed. Relieved. There's no telling the lengths I would have gone to if Carlos had announced that he was off to catch a flight to wherever the fuck our son had been shipped off to.

"I _do_ have to head over to Rangeman and brief the men Tank has assembled, though," he added. "The sooner I get over there, the sooner we'll have our own eyes and ear on the ground."

"I'm coming with you," I said immediately.

Carlos nodded, as though he'd expected I would say such a thing. "I called your parents. They'll be here to look after the kids any minute and then we'll be on the road. Why don't you get dressed and I'll have a travel mug ready for you when you come down stairs."

I nodded slowly, learning forward to press a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you," I mumurred, using my his hand to steady myself as I got to my feet.

"I love you, too, Babe," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "We'll get him back. Don't you worry."

At that point in time, telling me not to worry was like telling a gold fish not to swim. It was going to happen no matter what, but with a quick nod and squeeze of his had, I made my way to the walk in wardrobe to pull on the first jeans and sweatshirt I laid my hands on.

 ** _Next chapter, coming out tomorrow hopefully, will be the last._**


	4. Chapter 4

_Welcome to the final installment of this story. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far and to those who will in the future. A quick note on my other stories: While I have every intention of finishing them eventually, my life is actually extremely busy right now and I had to hack out a space in which to write this little ditty. Patience, grasshoppers._

 **Chapter 4**

I wrote back to Phineas to thank him for his email and urge him to bring my son home. I know it was unnecessary; his first letter was already so guilt-laden, but I also assured him that he was a good man, and requested updates on his progress whenever he was able. I knew I could have all the progress reports I wanted from Carlos and our men, but somehow I felt that Phineas's words would be truer. Carlos would be worried about feeding me false hope or dashing it away all together. Phineas, from what I could tell from the first email, would tell it to me straight.

I also wrote to Elias using that last address he's used. Every night I sent him a new message of encouragement hoping that even if he couldn't read them, the mere fact that I was physically sending my thoughts out in his direction would bolster his strength.

Every night for two years, I wrote him. I told him about life back home. I sent him birthday greetings, and Christmas wishes. On my weaker days I flat out begged him to escape and come home to me.

His continued absence was a constant strain on all of us. The girls and Frankie looked up with hopeful expressions every time my email alert dinged. I took to reading all of Phineas's updates aloud with them.

At work, Carlos had organised an eight week rotating roster of volunteers to aid in the task of searching for Elias. Every eight weeks a new team would ship out to meet up with those already searching and swap information before the old team could come home and rest.

And also update everyone state side on minor things that might have been glossed over in emails and phone calls. We had one of the meeting rooms set up just for reviewing evidence. More often than not, when men were on break, they could be found in there pouring over reports. Everyone was working themselves into exhaustion. Carlos especially.

He'd pulled a considerable number of favours in that had been owed to him over the years. I swear he had half the military lending a hand in the case. And he was making regular trips to DC for meetings, briefings, and whatever other official business needed to be attended to while he was there.

By the time eighteen months had passed, I had all but given up. For my own mental and emotional health, I needed to face facts and assume he would never be coming home. The men were like a dog with a bone, though. There was no way they were going to give up until there was concrete evidence either way. I started avoiding the evidence room, couldn't stand the fervent looks on the men's faces as they combed through the papers looking for something they'd missed the last thousand times they'd read it.

I found myself at the bottom of a deep well of depression, unable to sleep at night, unable to find the strength to get up in the morning. The only thing that kept me moving, going through the motions, was the knowledge that they needed me. The kids. Carlos. The men. Elias. Even Phineas, with whom I'd corresponded regularly over the long months. If I gave up what, what would it do to them?

The day Chelsea, now seventeen and nearing the end of her high school years, came to me asking for advice on her college applications I almost fainted on the spot. It was this exact topic with Elias that had started this whole mess. I couldn't lose another baby. Especially not while Carlos was away on an extended trip to DC, working out some issue that had arisen.

"Mom?" she said, repeating my name when I didn't respond. "Mom, are you okay?"

Slowly, my vision cleared and the roaring in my ears died down enough that I could hear her. "I'm fine," I assured her. "I think I just need to sit down."

She helped me to a chair at the kitchen table, making sure I was stable and not likely to fall out of my seat before moving away to fetch a glass of water.

"Do you need me to call Dad?" She asked as I alternately gulped down mouthfuls of the cool liquid and cool air. "Or Uncle Bobby?"

"I'm fine," I repeated, setting the empty glass aside and folding my arms on the table. "You just caught me off guard."

"Is it because of Elias?" she asked quietly. Almost timidly. "I almost didn't ask you, because I know college application discussions are where this all started." She made a vague gesture with her hand, that I guessed was supposed to encompass everything that had happened the last four years. "I don't want to upset you."

"Sweetie," I sighed, pulling her chair closer to mine so I could wrap my arms around her. "Chelsea, don't ever worry about upsetting me. If there's something you need to talk about just say the word. I don't want you live in fear of breaking me. I've been through a lot over the years. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's not what Uncle Lester says," she reported, a slight smile on her face. We both knew Lester Santos was full of shit.

"He's probably still sore about the time I accidentally ruined his chances with a girl. Besides, if it weren't for the fact Lester is a valued member of the team, I would have incapacitated him for such comments a long time ago," I informed her. "Lester's stories are all hype."

"Yeah," she agreed, and we lapsed into a brief, slightly tense silence. I could tell she was hesitant to mention college again, so I took the ball out of her court and served.

"So college?" I prompted. "Applications are due soon? I thought they were still ages away."

She nodded. "They're still a while away, but I want to be prepared."

"Well, what do you need help with?" I asked.

"A bunch of stuff," she said with a shrug, staring at the table, a small furrow wrinkling her forehead. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing, to be honest."

This shocked me – she was always so confident and assertive and knowledgeable, I'd just expected her to breeze through this process like it was yesterday's crossword – but I tried not to let it show on my face. "Oh," I uttered. "Well, I'm not really sure where to start." I glanced down at my hands, recalling the argument Id had with Elias about college. To think that all this started because I wasn't ready for him to leave the nest, not because I thought anything particularly bad would happen to him, but simply because I was unprepared for the conversation. "Have you spoken to Tank about it?" I asked.

"I didn't want to go behind your back like Elias did," she explained, staring at my shoulder rather than look me in the eye.

I sighed. Of course. "Elias didn't go behind our backs, honey," I said. "HE just didn't think to tell us. I fully recommend taking advantage of Tank's apparent expertise. Just keep your father and I informed."

"Do you think Uncle Tank has time for me, what with everything that's going on?" she asked nervously.

"I'm sure helping you plan your future will be a welcome distraction from his current stress," I assured her gently. "In fact, why don't we head over to Haywood now and talk to him together? We've got some time before I have to pick Sophie up from basketball practice, and Frankie is at a sleepover until tomorrow."

"I think I'd like that," Chelsea replied gratefully.

Nodding, I stood and patted my pockets, checking for keys and my phone. Both were there, but my feet were bare. "I'll go throw some shoes on and meet you at the car," I told her. "We can grab some donuts on the way, too."

I jogged upstairs to my bedroom and had just opened my closet door when a shout carried up to me. "Mom!" Panic laced the single drawn out syllable. "Mom! You need to come down here _right now!_ "

Forgetting the shoes, I turned on my heels, my feet slapping all the way down the stairs and into the front entrance way. Chelsea was stood at the screen door, gripping the handle in a white-knuckled grip. In the second I paused to take in the scene, wondering what exactly was wrong, her shoulders jerked and she made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"What?" I demanded, my heart thundering away in my chest. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Come and see," she insisted, beckoning me over with a wave of her hand.

I stepped up behind her, peering over her shoulder – when had she gotten so tall? – out at the front yard. A black SUV had pulled up in the driveway, which was not an uncommon occurrence. The Merry Men were always stopping by. The detail of not here, though, was who was in the car. As we watched, both of the front doors opened. I noticed first, as I always did, the angular silhouette of my beloved husband, stepping out of the driver's side. My gaze lingered just a moment before skipping over to the man he'd brought with him and my heart stopped.

"IS that-" I tried to get a question out, but my throat was closing over, choked with tears.

Rather than reply, Chelsea pushed open the screen and dragged me out onto the porch. I couldn't stop there, though. Now that he'd rounded the car and I had an unobstructed view, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who it was. His hair was longer, his frame leaner, his eyes more weary, but there was no mistaking that the man standing before us one the lawn, among the fallen leaves I'd asked Frankie to rake up before leaving for his sleep over, was Elias.

He reached up to flick his curls out of his eyes and I was a goner. Tears crowded my vision as I stumbled down the stairs. In my hurry to reach my son, I missed the last step and landed on the path on my knees, a sobbing mess. I'd only just made impact when his arms were around me, drawing me back up to my feet. I hugged him so tight I was worried he would suffocate from it, but he just chuckled, wiping away my tears and letting me kiss his forehead and cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to squeak out after several long moments.

He leaned back to look me in the eye, holding up a thick wad of paper to show me. "I'm following orders, Mom," he told me, serious. "Every one of your emails told me I had to come home. And I was taught never to disobey my mother."

"You read them all?" I asked, thinking about how terribly desperate they had become.

"Every single one," he confirmed.

"But how did you-?"

He hesitated a moment, his expression pained as he glanced over at his father. "I… don't know if I can-"

"It's classified?" I clarified. He nodded. "It's fine. Half your father's life is classified. I can deal with another mystery to add to the pile."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, his shoulders slumping with relief. "You're the best."

"I'm glad you noticed," I agreed, squeezing him a little tighter and then stepping back. "Now let me look at you. You better hadn't be hiding any injuries or wounds under that uniform of yours." My gaze roved over his body from the tip of his spit shined dress shoes all the way up to his perpetually messy curls and then I started back down again. My eyes caught on something shiny on his collar.

"What's this?" I asked, reaching out to run my fingers over it, smudging the polish.

"Captain Bars," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Your son got a promotion for his service," Carlos explained, coming up behind me with Chelsea tucked under his arm. "The last two years he's rescued more civilians than we can count. He was determined to get as many innocent people out alive before he would escape himself. That's why he was so difficult to find."

I speared my son with a questioning glance.

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "It appears being a self-rescuing princess runs in the family," he said easily.

Chelsea stepped forward then, to hug her brother, leaning up to whisper something in his ear that made him frown. Then she stepped back and punched him hard in the gut. "Never do that again," she scowled. "Or you'll wish you'd never saved yourself, _Princess_."

"Ow," Elias complained. "You'd think you'd be a little more grateful to have me back alive."

"I'll be grateful when you retire," she mentioned flippantly, taking a step back again. "I can't deal with the worry."

It was like she was plucking the words straight from my brain. I hadn't had the chance to say them myself, yet, but I thought that maybe hearing it from his sister would be better anyway. A mother was _supposed_ to worry. It was my job.

"Well then prepare to be grateful," Elias announced grandly, a grin crossing his face as he threw out his arms. "Because as soon as we receive the final paperwork, I am _done_ with the military."

"Thank God!" I exclaimed, rushing forward to hug him again, inadvertently spreading more tears over his shirt. "I can finally sleep again."

He laughed and hugged me back, opening his arms to accept Chelsea as well. "I'm thinking of going back to college," he added. "Just so you know. I don't want you freaking out me again when I tell you I've made my decision."

Craning my neck to glance at Carlos, I said. "You should tell Tank to clear his schedule for double college planning sessions. We have two lots of applications to get through."

"Not tonight, Babe," he said. "We have a welcome back dinner planned."

"I hope you don't mind," Elias said, pushing his curls back once more to gaze down at me (I wasn't ready to let go just yet). "I invited my team to join us."

"Sound perfect," I assured him.

The End


	5. Epilogue

_Perhaps it was because over fifty percent of reviews for the 'final' chapter mentioned feeling deprived that they did not get to meet Elias's team. Perhaps it was that, in my weakened state (I've been home sick today) I was feeling charitable. Perhaps it was because I really liked the personality ideas that my bestie threw at me. Whatever the reasoning, it gives me great pleasure to bring to you the epilogue of this story._

 **Epilogue**

When we pulled into the parking lot at Shorty's a little before six that evening, having picked up Sophie from basketball and cut Frankie's sleepover short to bring him with us, there were three young men waiting beside the door. They were slouched, casual, your average group of twenty-somethings hanging around. Until you looked a little closer. It was almost unrecognisable to the untrained eye, but I'd lived with Carlos and worked with the Merry Men long enough to pick out the signs of a man always on the lookout. They must be Elias's team.

We piled out of the SUV, Elias hoisting Frankie – who had been so excited about seeing his older brother that he'd promptly forgotten about his sleep over - up onto his shoulders to give him a piggy back. I stuck close, not willing to let him out of my sight just yet, and Carlos stuck close to me. The boys, I noticed, pushed off the wall to stand straighter as we approached.

Elias exchanged a complicated hand shake with each of them before swinging his brother back down to the ground and making a round of introductions. "Mom, it is my great pleasure to introduce you do the biggest pains in the ass you'll ever meet," he started.

"You mean more so than your Uncles?" I quipped.

They all laughed appreciatively, then the tall gangly one raised his hand, almost like he had a question and stated matter-of-factly, "I still maintain that it should be pains in the AS. One 's'. To keep it true."

The others sighed and shook their heads. "We've been through this already, bro," one of them – about Elias's height with the most elegant man-bun I've laid witness to – intoned. "It's funnier with Ass. Two 's's. Plus, people don't need as much of an explanation."

"Yeah," the third guy agreed. "They can just take it on face value that we're Ass. Which most people we meet tended to do before we came up with the genius name, anyway."

Clearing his throat, Elias stepped closer to me and his siblings and spoke to us in an undertone while the others continued argue over whatever it was they were arguing about. I wasn't entirely sure. It seemed like some spelling based thing, and tall and gangly was adamantly opposing the others. "So, to put things in context," Elias explained. "Each of our names ends in the letter A-S. I'm Elias, as you should know by now –"

"No," Sophie exhaled sarcastically. "Really? _That's_ what your name is? I thought it was Grape. Why didn't you correct me all these years?"

"Hush," he responded calmly, a far cry from the verbal wars he used to engage in with her. "As I was saying. I'm Elias. The one with the issue with our team name is Tobias. He's a self-proclaimed pedant. Sophie should get along pretty well with him, once she steps up her debating game. Man-bun, over there is Jonas, a regular boy scout. Literally prepared for any eventuation. Seriously. Anything. We were in the middle of the desert and I was like, _Man, if only I had a soda can tab right now_. And he freaking produced one from his pockets. I kid you not. Whatever you mention needing, he will have. Even lady products. Trust me. He has them. We had need of them. And he had them." He paused then, like he was letting that information set in before continuing. "And that leaves-" he said, but before he could finish, the shortest of the group stepped forward.

He had short blond hair styled into an impressive pompadour, dull grey eyes half hidden behind a pair of tortoise shell glasses, and a hint of a dimple when he smiled. "Mrs. Manoso," he greeted. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Phineas Elridge. You may remember me from such emails as that one the time I broke your heart by telling you our Ellie had gone missing."

He thrust out a hand for me to shake, but it wasn't sufficient for me. I took his hand, yes, but only to pull him into an embrace. He was kind enough to let me – I suffered under no delusions that I would ever be able to overpower him, despite his deceptively lean frame – and even hugged me back.

"Thank you," I murmured into his shoulder. "Thank you so much for everything you've done."

"It was my duty," he shrugged easily. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"The army would have had us continue the mission without him," Tobias pointed out. His tone was casual, but when I loosened my grip on Phineas enough to look to the others, I saw a set jaw and a clenched fist. Clearly their marching orders were still somewhat of a sore spot. "If it weren't for the fact that El had instilled real family values in our team on day one, we might have followed orders and left him there. I don't know if I could live with myself if that happened."

"Luckily, you'll never have to find out," Jonas announced, stepping forward. Along with his man-bun, he also sported a full beard and a maroon cardigan. "Your son changed my view of the military, Mrs. M," he confessed gruffly. "If it weren't for him I might have become a mindless drone, following every order I was given."

"Instead," Elias explained, "Jonas prefers to maintain himself as our token hipster, setting the trend of disobeying the higher ups and tendering his resignation effective immediately the moment we were back on American soil."

Carlos spoke then, reminding me – as if I ever needed it – of his presence directly behind me. "Rumour has it that the boys here have been on a watch list since the day they started basic," he informed us all. "Not just because they had the potential to be great soldiers, but because they showed strong signs of resistance. They weren't mindless enough for the army's liking. They were thrown together for this mission because of that certain something they all seemed to possess that made them bend or, in this case, break the rules. As it turns out, that was the army's biggest mistake. They lost some good soldiers."

"You _all_ quit?" Frankie asked, awed.

Phineas ruffled the kid's hair with an affectionate smile, showcasing those dimples again. "That's right, kiddo," he said. "Because I don't want to be a part of any army that says to forget about your older brother."

Frankie looked up at Phineas, wide eyed. "Cool," he breathed.

Chelsea took that opportunity to lean down to Frankie's ear and whisper, "Mom and Dad are never going to let you quit school, so just keep dreaming."

"Can we eat now?" Sophie complained, clearly less enthused by her brother's friends than Frankie was. Unfortunately, before anyone could confirm or deny the motion to move inside, my traitorous stomach let out a loud protesting growl.

Sophie, Chelsea, Frankie and Elias groaned in embarrassment. Tobias, Jonas and Phineas, on the other hand, burst into laughter.

"I thought you were joking about that," Phineas said, shocked.

"We should feed that beast before it comes alive and eats _us_ ," Jonas added. "I didn't make it out of a war zone just to be gobbled up by a stomach monster."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine, have your fun," I said to the three members of Team Pain in the Ass that I hadn't created. "But you better get used to it, because I expect to see a lot more of you in the future."

"Actually," Carlos added as Lester, Bobby and Tank stepped out of the restaurant, apparently having grown impatient for us to enter. "I've been meaning to mention something to you, boys. How would you feel about joining Rangeman?"

"I would feel honoured," Phineas assured him, bowing his head slightly. "I've heard great things about the company."

"I'm in," Jonas confirmed without missing a beat.

"I'd hate to split up Team As," Tobias put in, deliberately pronouncing the single 's' in 'as'.

I glanced over to Carlos's men, the guys I'd come to accept as my family, who'd been there for us through thick and thin. I realised, then, that I'd always thought that every team the military threw together would be a cookie cutter copy of them. Carlos, the hardened leader. Tank, the sensitive muscle. Bobby, the needle and thread. And Lester, the jester. But I couldn't have been more wrong. While Elias shared many traits with his father, he was by no means the same person. He was a leader, yes, but more from a collaboration standpoint than a take charge point of view. Then there was Phineas. Faithful to a fault, with a good sense of humour, but nowhere near Santos level. It seemed he preferred to use his wit to put people at ease more that take the piss. He had to be good at reading people. Jonas, with his skill in being prepared was a go to man. Whatever you needed, he could provide, whether it was a clean pair of underwear, a cigarette lighter or someone to cover you in the heat of battle. And Tobias, for all his pedantic arguing, obviously had a keen eye for detail, a trait that would come in very handy on and off the field.

Lester, Bobby and Tank silently sized up the boys, judging them hard until finally Lester turned to his cousin and asked, "Did we really just inherit the army's pain in the ass?"

"As," Tobias corrected, doggedly.

"Yes," Elias confirmed.

"Then we better get this party started!" Lester announced beckoning everyone to follow him as he turned back toward the door. "I imagine the boss will want you all on the floor no later than oh eight-hundred Monday. Thank gives you a measly ninety six hours of freedom. Use it well. You may well find that Ranger is tougher than the pansy drill sergeants you're used to."

And with that, we made our way inside and were immediately engulfed in a restaurant full to overflowing with men and women wanting to welcome the boys home.

 ** _For funsies, please review telling me your favourite member of Team Ass, and why._**


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